


A fortunate encounter

by ylc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Sherlock, First Meetings, Genderbending, Romance, Wonder Woman AU, everyone has been genderbend, some slight hints of mystrade, some spoilers perhaps, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: While escaping a group of enemy soldiers, Sherlock ends up in a mysterious island.A Wonder Woman AU with fem!Sherlock and fem!John.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do realize I have a ridiculous number of WIPs and far too many plot bunnies running wild, convincing me to write “one shots” that aren’t such thing, but I’m also ridiculously weak willed and once a bunny gets a hold of me… well, I rarely resist.  
> I went to watch Wonder Woman during the weekend and, as most people in this world apparently, fell in love with it (to my endless disappointment, my daughter wasn’t very interested). Anyway, somewhere around the middle, this plot bunny attacked me, only that in my original sketch, Sherlock was the amazonian warrior princess and John was the spy (pretending to be a nurse) but well… the more I turned the idea around my head, the more I became convinced it worked better the other way around: because we know John is a warrior and Sherlock is just stubborn enough to get himself (well, herself in this case) involved in some spy mission despite her gender.  
> Also, I’ve been wanting to write femlock since forever so… it was the perfect excuse, really :P  
> Anyway, enough of my senseless ramblings; enjoy!

In retrospective, stealing an airplane was probably a bad idea.

Sherlock isn’t a bad pilot per se; she has had plenty of practice to be a decent one, even if she has never been properly taught. She’s smart though and so she figured out more or less how to fly the damn thing, although Mycroft had nearly had a heart attack when she found out what she had been up to.

None of that matters right now, though. While Sherlock might be a proficient pilot under regular circumstances, these are far from regular. She never expected anyone to notice the missing notebook for at least a couple of hours, giving her enough time to get far away.

A gross miscalculation, obviously.

She does her best to dodge the enemy bullets, but it’s only a matter of time before one of the cannons finally hits its mark. She can feel her heart beating erratically and that’s leaving her a little out of breath, but she tells herself she needs to focus if she wants to survive. Panicking won’t help one bit.

The heavy fog might shield her a little from the enemy’s aim, but it also reduces her own visibility, making flying through it more than a little risky. If she survives this, she swears to herself, she’ll never get involved in another mission as ridiculously dangerous as this one.

Several bullets finally hit the airplane’s gasoline tank and she curses as it begins its quick descent. The back of the plane is in flames now, almost reaching her, but she thinks the impact against the ocean water is a little more troubling. It’s unlikely she’ll survive the impact, but if by some miracle she does, it’s very likely her pursuers will catch up with her and that will just result in her death anyway.

A no win scenario, if she ever saw one.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock becomes aware of her surroundings some indeterminable time later. Her whole body aches, but it’s nothing compared to the burn of her lungs. She summarises she nearly drowned, but she can’t figure out how she managed not to.

One look to her left side provides her with the answer she seeks.

The woman sitting next to her must be an hallucination, because there’s no way someone this gorgeous just happened to save Sherlock; it’d be entirely too cliched for it to be happening in real life. The woman’s blond locks are dripping wet though and she looks a little out of breath herself, so maybe-

Before she can do or say anything, a yell coming from her right startles her out of her stupor. She sits up as best as she can, the blond woman helping her and they both watch as the enemy ships that had been following Sherlock approach the shore.

Oh, this is bad, very bad.

The blond woman is frowning, watching the newcomers curiously and perhaps a tad wary, but certainly not scared. Sherlock grabs her by the arm and starts pulling her along, hoping they’ll find somewhere to hide if they move quick enough.

The woman doesn’t move.

“They’re coming for me,” she informs her mysterious saviour, not certain if she’ll be understood. “Please, I need somewhere to hide.”

The blond woman’s eyes swept over her and then go back to the enemy soldiers that are leaving their boats now. Sherlock can feel panic threatening to overwhelm her and she keeps pulling at her companion, but the woman stubbornly stands her ground.

It never really crosses Sherlock’s mind to leave her behind.

Before she can attempt to reason with her once more, a war cry coming from somewhere up on the risk gains both Sherlock’s and the enemy soldiers’ attention. There’s a blond woman up there, holding what seems to be an overly elaborated bow, surrounded by other women carrying similar bows or, to Sherlock’s endless surprise, honest-to-god spears.

Well, this is a bit bizarre.

Before she can wrap her head around what’s happening, the warrior women are upon them, shooting the enemy soldiers with their spears and arrows. Their aim is surprisingly good, not to mention their skill at hand-to-hand combat. Despite their pistols and their rifles, the men are no match for the skilled female warriors.

It’s quite a spectacle, really.

Her saviour has already joined the battle, wielding a sword she seems to have produced out of thin air. Sherlock has never seen such a display of skilled swordsmanship and it’s doing things to her insides that aren’t exactly appropriate, given the situation.

Not that they are ever appropriate, as her parents have tirelessly informed her.

She grasps one of the fallen soldiers’ rifles, figuring she should help. She’s a decent shooter, she supposes, but she’s not used to the heavy rifle and soon her shoulder is aching. She keeps on shooting though, since the enemy soldiers keep on coming and she doesn’t want to depend on the female warriors' skill.

She suddenly notices a soldier that’s sneaking too close to her saviour. She hesitates for a beat, not wanting to risk a shot that might injure the mysterious blond and a second later she’s running across the shore, tackling the enemy soldier without much effort. The man huffs as she lands heavily on top of him, but recovers quickly, throwing Sherlock off him and pointing at her with his gun.

She’s breathing heavily once more, more scared than what she’d be willing to admit, bracing herself for the pain she knows is coming. Only it never does and when she opens her eyes again (when did she close them anyway?) the man is lying on the ground next to her, a nasty bleeding wound on his side.

She looks up at her two times saviour and the blond offers her a small smile that makes Sherlock’s heart flutter. She thought her beautiful before, but now, in the heat of the battle, she’s simply breathtaking.

She’s gone before Sherlock can gather her wits about her and she realizes now is not the time to be staring dreamingly at the warrior. They’re in a middle of a battle, for crying out loud and all Sherlock can focus on is the way the sun reflects in her lovely locks, or in the easy way she wields her sword, or on those lovely legs-

Okay, right, time to stop staring and do something useful.

She searches for a smaller pistol, figuring that might be her best shoot. She manages to find one finally, but she runs out of bullets shortly after. She curses loudly, already looking for a replacement when she notices the battle around her has stopped and now there’s another blond woman standing in front of her, looking down at her with a mighty frown.

Well… this might not be a good thing.

“Umm… hello?” she offers hesitantly, standing up very slowly, the woman’s eyes fixed on her. She becomes aware she’s surrounded on all fronts, but in any case she doesn’t think she could escape: the warrior in front of her would see to that no doubt.

“Who are you and how did you find us?” the woman demands, her voice authoritative and by the way everyone is gazing expectantly at her, she assumes she’s the leader. Sherlock considers her options, not sure if these women are allies or fiends, although judging by what has just happened-

“I was escaping those men,” she answers honestly. “I didn’t- they hit my plane and I’m not quite sure how I ended up here.”

The woman opens her mouth to say something, but gets interrupted by Sherlock’s mysterious rescuer. “I saved her from drowning, Harry. She fell from the sky.”

The leader frowns, turning to the younger one, arms crossed over her chest. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have,” she utters darkly and the other rolls her eyes dramatically, making Sherlock’s lips twitch upwards, even if she supposes now is not the time for humor. “Why were they chasing after you?” she asks, attention back to Sherlock.

She bites her lip, unsure once more. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

The woman blinks before a slow dangerous smile curves her lips. Sherlock can’t help the shiver running down her spine and she attempts to take a step back, only to realize she’s even more cornered than a few moments ago.

“We’ll see,” the leader says ominously and Sherlock gulps.

This day just keeps getting better and better.

 

* * *

 

All things considered, Sherlock supposes it could be worse.

The “interrogation” didn’t last long, or at least she doesn’t remember it lasting long. She’s not sure what happened, to be honest, since she has no memories of being asked something. She remembers having been tied up with a deceptively fragile rope and being guided back to what she assumes was some sort of audience room, where the leader was waiting. Other than that…

Her mind keeps coming up blank.

She looks around the cave, marvelling at the beauty of the thermal waters. As far as she can tell, this isn’t man made and that makes it even more beautiful.

There’s a rustle coming from the entrance and she’s onto her feet a second later, reaching for her clothes. She quickly relaxes though, noticing her visitor is none other than her mysterious saviour.

It’s funny, Sherlock thinks, how quickly she relaxed, as if she wasn’t scared of the woman. By all means she should be: she has seen her in action and she knows what she’s capable of, but somehow Sherlock knows she would never hurt her.

Curious, that. “I didn’t quite catch your name earlier,” she says, aiming to keep her tone light and not quite succeeding. Her companion is wearing what seems to be the island’s fashion, but it’s pretty much naked by British standards and Sherlock finds it hard not to let her eyes wander across the expanse of tanned skin, her hands itching to touch.

“Joan,” the other replies simply, coming to stand close to where Sherlock is sitting. “I’m Joan, Princess of the Amazonians.”

Ah, so that’s how they call themselves. Sherlock has heard the name of the island twice already, but it refuses to stick with her. It’s weird, because her memory is normally flawless, but-

“Tell me more about this war you spoke of,” the blond woman demands, kneeling next to her, eyes earnest and Sherlock frowns, not recalling having said a word about the war. “And why is it so important you take the notebook to your people.”

Yes, she definitely doesn’t remember saying that because it’s exactly the sort of thing she should have kept a secret. Except apparently she didn’t- has she been tortured? And was the torture so horrible she actually forgot all she said?

That wouldn’t make sense. Was she given some sort of weird drug? That would make more sense, but-

She realizes, perhaps a little too late, that her companion has just taken off her clothes and slipped into the water with her. Sherlock gulps, pressing her body against the edge although every instinct in her body is clamoring for her to close the distance between them, not to put more.

It’s not proper, really but Joan doesn’t seem to mind and Sherlock has never claimed to be a saint.

“So?” Joan prompts, tilting her head to the side curiously and Sherlock would sooner drown herself than lie to her. Which is ridiculous, really; they barely know each other and yet-

“Why do you want to know?” she asks gently, still carefully keeping some distance between them, but attempting to relax. “You’re safe here, apparently. The war has left this island completely untouched.”

Her companion contemplates her answer, staring at nothing in particular. “We were created to defeat Ares’ armies,” she explains calmly, eyes locking with Sherlock’s. “Whatever Ares is up to right now… it’s certainly our business.”

Sherlock would say something about that sounding crazy, but she finds she can’t utter a word, her throat feeling too dry suddenly. So she just nods, watching her companion closely, trying not to get distracted by the now larger expanse of skin visible.

“Right,” she says finally, managing to swallow. “Right. I’ll… I’ll tell you what I know and then you’ll tell me more about this place, deal?” she doesn’t think she has any real room to negotiate, but while Joan looks amused by her proposal, she nods in acceptance.

Well then. Time to share her story, then. Or the world’s history, as the case might be.

She certainly never anticipated doing this.

 

* * *

 

Joan seems to find everything Sherlock tells her endlessly fascinating and seems quite curious about why exactly Sherlock wasn’t supposed to be involved in this war business in the first place. She understands the role she plays and why she does it, but she doesn’t understand why Mycroft had to bribe and blackmail most of the High Command to let her do this.

“It’s just- I mean, women don’t usually do this type of work,” she says finally, giving up on attempting to explain gender roles to her companion, particularly when she herself doesn’t believe in them.

“So women don’t serve in war?” Joan asks, honestly puzzled, looking perhaps a tad annoyed. “Why? They could be just as good soldiers as men.”

Sherlock nods, thinking of the battle at the shore. “Do you- do all of you learn to fight like that?”

Joan shrugs. “Yes. We believe in training ourselves for battle, so we can defend ourselves and those weaker than us should the need arise.” She stares at Sherlock for a beat. “You’re quite skinny,” she points out and Sherlock blushes furiously. “You were never trained to fight?”

Not exactly. Sherlock knows a thing or two about self defense, but she learned those tricks on the street. “It’s not proper for a lady such as myself.” She snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Or at least that’s what my parents always said.”

“Were they upset you choose to do… this?”

Sherlock laughs, throwing her head back. “They don’t know about this,” she says, still laughing although perhaps a tad bitterly. “My sister saw to it. As far as they’re concerned, I’m living with Mycroft while she and/or her husband find me an appropriate beau.”

Joan blinks, evidently getting more confused by the minute. “You don’t seem to look forward to finding a beau,” she says, frowning. “Furthermore, why would your sister or her husband know what kind of man you’d like to marry?”

“I wouldn’t like to marry,” Sherlock protests, rolling her eyes. “But that’s what a _well breed_ _lady_ as myself should do. Marry, have a bunch of children and look pretty at her husband’s side.”

Joan thinks about this seriously. “Your sister doesn’t seem to have done that.”

Well, not completely, but then Mycroft is a master manipulator. “She married well, as our parents expected, but she married a man she knew would be easy to manipulate for her own purposes.”

“So she doesn’t love him?” she sounds honestly horrified and Sherlock isn’t quite sure about how to reassure her new… _friend_.

“Love has little to do with marriage,” Sherlock mutters darkly. “A lesson Mummy imparted on us most often.”

“That makes no sense,” Joan protests, looking honestly put off and Sherlock supposes she might as well ask the question she’s been meaning to ask for a while, but was afraid it wouldn’t be exactly polite.

“I’ve seen no men among you,” she says, trying not to sound as eager as she is for answers. “What happened to them?”

Joan frowns. “There’s never been men among us. Not as long as we’ve been living in the island, at least.”

“But then how… how do you…” she gestures vaguely, but Joan doesn’t seem to catch her meaning. “You know… children?”

“We were created by Zeus,” her companion replies calmly, as if that explained something and Sherlock supposes it does, for her. It makes no sense whatsoever, of course, but Joan seems to believe it adamantly and she wouldn’t want to upset her. God knows that if she could reproduce with no man involved, she’d be thrilled.

Or not. She’s not quite sure she wants children, actually.

“So you don’t… marry?” she asks, her heart beating perhaps a tad too erratically and she tells herself she’s being foolish, but she can’t quell her enthusiasm as Joan seems to contemplate her answer.

“We do, sometimes,” she explains slowly. “Not often, though. But my sister, the Queen, for example, is married to the General. You met her, remember?”

Sherlock blinks several times, processing the information. “Is that… is that allowed here?” Joan frowns and so Sherlock hurries to explain. “In England, back where I’m from, it’s not- two women couldn’t- it’d be illegal for them to marry.”

“Why?” Joan sounds horrified at the possibility and Sherlock’s heart aches for some reason she doesn’t care to examine.

“It’s not... it’s _sinful_ ,” she sneers, scrunching her nose. “Or that’s what people say.”

Joan shakes her head. “Your people seem very… odd.”

That’s one way to call them. “So you all… you’re not… you’re all attracted to women?”

Joan shrugs. “Some of us are, but mostly we don’t have much interest in that. We’re all family, so we don’t feel any urge to pair bond... I guess it’s different from where you come from.”

Yes, very much.

“I don’t care for _pair bonding_ either,” she says softly, although she knows it’s partially a lie. She never cared to find a partner, that’s true, but that’s because she always knew she wouldn’t find a man who would treat her like an equal, nor that she has ever been attracted to any man to begin with. Now though-

Well.

Joan tilts her head to the side once more, observing her closely and Sherlock can’t help the blush that quickly overtakes her cheeks just to spread all the way down to her collarbone. She has the sudden urge to run, but that would mean getting out of the water and she’s not particularly eager to have the other woman seeing her naked.

Considering the way all the other women here look, Sherlock couldn’t be more far away from what they no doubt consider attractive, with her skinny legs and even skinnier arms. She got tired of carrying a freaking riffle, to cry it out loud, while these women-

“I’m most curious about your culture,” Joan tells her, pulling her out of her dark thoughts. “And I understand your plight; you need to get that information to your leader.” She looks up, considering something. “Although what we really need to do is bring Ares down.”

“Sure,” Sherlock agrees, at lost of words since Joan has slipped out of the water and now she’s standing right there, completely unbothered by her nakedness, dripping wet and making a curious heat curl inside Sherlock’s abdomen.

“Come on then,” Joan urges, offering her hand to pull her up. Sherlock just stares, expression perhaps a bit panicked. “Come on,” Joan repeats, clearly growing annoyed. “We’re escaping here.”

“What?!” Sherlock exclaims, surprised enough to let Joan pull her out of the water. “But your sister said-”

Joan huffs, amused. “You’re a younger sister too. Do you honestly listen to everything your sister says?”

No, but Mycroft is… well, that’s not the point. “You’ll help me escape, really?”

“No,” Joan deadpans and Sherlock’s heart drops to her feet. “I’m escaping with you. There’s a difference.”

She stalks out of the place, not bothering to put her clothes back on and Sherlock watches her go, trying not to stare much at her wonderful retreating back.

Oh dear god, this woman will be the death of her.

“Are you coming?” Joan demands, one eyebrow arched and Sherlock nods eagerly, following swiftly.

She’ll follow this woman to the end of the world, she thinks. Which might be a bit foolish and dangerous but well…

Nothing risked nothing gained, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted to write a bit more for this particular fic, but I sort of lost my inspiration. However, due this month’s challenge at [hiatustory](hiatustory.tumblr.com) on tumblr, I decided to finish these couple of scenes I had started and post them ;)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

“An island full of women?”

“That’s what I said, yes.”

“Women. Warrior women. All alone in an island in the middle of nowhere.”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy but-”

“Oh, damn right it sounds crazy! I thought you said you quitted opium? Because as I recall, the deal was you could run around  _ the bloody war zone _ at your heart’s content as long as you stayed away from bloody opium!”

“What’s that?” Joan asks, stepping out of the changing room wearing a dress that makes her look like a puffy cake. Still, Sherlock ogles her like there’s no tomorrow and her sister’s husband’s secretary, Gina Lestrade, rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Sherlock is telling me about your island,” she says, smiling politely. “I’m having a hard time believing her tale.”

Joan tilts her head to the side curiously. “Is Sherlock prone to lying? Because as far as I can tell, she’s been perfectly honest with me so far.”

Sherlock beams, sticking out her tongue at her companion, who just huffs once more. “She has a tendency to… exaggerate the facts.”

Joan nods thoughtfully. “That sounds about right,” she says, coming to stand in front of the mirror while Sherlock pouts. “How exactly are you supposed to run in this thing?” she asks, holding her skirts up to the horror of the saleswoman helping them. “They’re not practical at all.”

Gina chuckles. “Yeah, and that’s assuming you’re not wearing any heels.”

Joan blinks, confused and Gina points at the ridiculously fashionable shoes that the saleswoman has brought. They’re pretty, of course, but Sherlock can’t imagine Joan wearing them. Although her legs would look even more gorgeous that way, now that she thinks about it…

God, she’s turning into a sex crazed animal.

“I don’t think I’ll be trying those,” Joan announces, heading back to the changing room. “I’ll keep looking!”

Gina hums as she watches her go. “Well, if that island does exist… do you think maybe we could plan a little trip later this year?”

“I thought you and Mycroft-”

“Yes, well. You know your sister,” Gina rolls her eyes and Sherlock smirks. “And I’ve gotta admit that Joan of yours… she’s definately something.”

Yes, she is, but Sherlock would appreciate if Gina stopped herself from ogling her. She’s hers, after all, even though Joan hasn’t given any indication she’s interested. Still, a girl can dream, right?

They hear a frustrated noise coming from the changing room and a second later Joan has stepped out, raising her leg as high as she can and so tearing up the dress she’s trying on. “Seriously, how do you fight in this?”

“Well, this is going to be fun!“ Gina exclaims cheerfully before grabbing Joan by the arm and dragging her back to the changing room, leaving a very flustered Sherlock behind.

Good Lord, those legs are going to be the death of her!

* * *

 

“You do recall our deal was-”

“Yes, yes, I know! I’m also perfectly sober!” Sherlock snaps while Mycroft simply arches an eyebrow. Gina chuckles discreetly behind her and she turns to glare at her, just to find Joan staring at her funnily, which prompts her to blush right away.

Mycroft hums, leaning back on her seat. “Well, I suppose I can give you the benefit of the doubt in this case.” She smiles perfunctionaly and Sherlock glares. “Your young woman does seem to be… quite something.”

Sherlock has to chuckle at that as she remembers the way Joan submitted the men that had tried to take her sword from her when they had walked into the building. Mycroft is eying Joan speculatively and Sherlock can’t help to feel a bit jealous.

Which is ridiculous, of course, but-

“In any case,” Mycroft continues suddenly, turning her attention back to Sherlock. “You can not take her to the war zone. In fact, you’re never leaving the house again, so-”

“You have to be bloody kidding me!” Sherlock snaps loudly, earning them a few curious stares from the few other people gathered around them. It’s unusual enough for such a big group of women to be waiting outside the War Council’s room and Sherlock’s tendency to be very loud certainly doesn’t help the matters.

Joan’s extraordinary beauty is probably not helping either.

“Keep your voice low,” Mycroft hisses. “People might be over eager to bow at my husband’s every command, but that’s certainly not extended to me. They might not throw us out just yet, but if you keep up like this-”

“Then stop talking nonsense and help me plan something,” Sherlock hisses back, leaning closer to her sister, eyes narrowed, earning herself an arched eyebrow from Mycroft. “I got you something very  _ very  _ useful. You can not deny I’m a great asset-”

“You nearly got yourself killed,” Mycroft argues back. “If you hadn’t come back, what do you suppose I would have told Mummy and Father? They’d kill me, Sherlock.”

“As touching as your sisterly concern is-”

“ _ Sherlock _ ,” Mycroft says, in that tone that says she’s deeply hurt, but she’ll do her best to conceal it; a tone that never fails to make Sherlock feel guilty and so always shuts her up immediately. “Please. I can not lose you.”

Sherlock opens her mouth to protest, but finds the words have deserted her. She hates when Mycroft makes her feel guilty about something, but she really can’t-

“I’m going to the war front,” Joan announces, suddenly stepping next to Sherlock. “Regardless of whether you help or not, I’ll be going. If your sister chooses to accompany me, you have my word I’ll do my best to keep her safe.”

Sherlock blushes furiously, for Joan has grabbed her hand at some point and Mycroft is eying the Amazon speculatively once more, her eyes dropping to their joined hands. Something in her gaze softens then and she looks up to Gina once more, who is staring at Sherlock’s and Joan’s joined hands too. 

Mycroft sighs, rubbing her temples tiredly. “I’ve never had much control over Sherlock; she always do as she pleases. Now that she has an accomplice, I suppose it’d be foolish of me to attempt to stop her,” she says, a small smile on her lips. “Just keep her safe, Joan.”

“You have my word,” Joan replies solemnly, finally letting go of Sherlock’s hand and the younger woman feels the loss of warmth keenly, but she’s not sure if attempting to grab it again would be a good idea.

Mycroft still looks unconvinced, but she doesn’t comment anything further. “Gina, make arrangements for their trips, would you? Find them some reliable travel companions?”

Gina’s expression is thoughtful, but she snaps to attention at the sound of Mycroft’s voice, nodding along to her instructions. “I’m on it,” she announces confidently, gesturing for Sherlock and Joan to follow her.

Sherlock risks one last look at her sister over her shoulder and the look on her face almost makes her turn around and forget this new silly endeavor of hers. But then Joan’s hand brushes against her and her resolve strengthens once more as she looks at her companion.

She realizes she’d follow this woman to the end of the world.

So she’s definitely going to be the death of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I think one of these days I might write a full femlock fic, because I really like the idea, but not anytime soon, since I do have too many WIPs in my hands already ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?

**Author's Note:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I’m a bit worried I borrowed too much from the movie’s plot, but I’d like to think it’s different enough to be interesting (I might be grossly mistaken, of course but well… a girl can hope, right?).  
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, though! It’s an exercise on self indulgence, really, but well… the damn plot bunny had a strong hold on me and I have no self control whatsoever (which is probably why I can’t stick to diets either. Huh.)  
> Anyway, let me know what you thought, pretty please?  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> English is not my native language, so any mistakes you find, please point them out! Let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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